Breakthrough
by wolfdancer333
Summary: Heavy Spoilers for Chapter 278! It wasn't Tsuruga, Ren that went in, guns blazing, and chased Mogami, Kyoko into a secluded elevator: it was Hizuri, Kuon and Kuon isn't about to let her get away. With answers given and feelings exposed, is there any hope left for a Fairy Prince and his Princess?


Kuon had never been more proud in all of his acting career of the 'Tsuruga, Ren' mask he had, forcibly and through an intense necessitation, cultivated – except for, without a doubt, the very short couple of weeks he had played a Fairy Prince to a crybaby Princess but that was a role no one even knew he had played and one he wasn't sure he would ever divulge to the public – and his pride was warranted: Tsuruga, Ren had managed to not only be the gentlemanly persona of Hizuri, Kuon but no one had ever tied the two together – with good reason and threats on the Boss' part he was sure – and he had, successfully, fooled an entire nation for going close to six years.

So, to say he was proud was an undignified way of saying he was downright arrogantly confident in his mask.

Even when dealing with his rediscovered, much more vengeful Princess, he had been determined that nothing could crack his shell or break Kuon out of character,_ again_ – she really tested the limits of his restraint at times….How could she just waltz into the bathroom while he's_ naked_ is still something he can't reflect on too long without being completely dumbfounded and, embarrassingly,_ frustrated_ – except when dealing with Mogami, Kyoko one must always learn to be prepared to accept the unexpected.

It's just too bad Kuon didn't like listening to_ himself_ about said girl.

No matter what he did – it was becoming increasingly confusing to decide_ who_ he was when every side, all parts of him, vied for her attention – he ended up losing to her, defeated by a petite pixie who wielded the shards of her broken heart with a hateful fervour – he had been, on multiple occasions, subjected to the sharpness of her lethal attacks and could verify their potency in striking down potential suitors, him included.

Though, this time, the one who had done the unexpected was_ him_.

Maybe she was rubbing off on him.

Because there was no real explanation he could give – and, days later, he would_ have_ to give one on multiple news stations, to a very angry father (whose father was his father!? Sometimes, he swore the man loved_ her_ more than his own damn child), a too smug Boss, a smirking, eyebrow waggling, fangirl of a manager, and to two of the scariest women in the LoveMe Section he had ever had the pleasurable misfortune of meeting – that would explain why he, unfathomable and unmovable Tsuruga, Ren, a mature and suave adult_ man_ chased a small, teenage girl down a public hallway of a very well-known studio, both of them shouting and lacking composure as he tried to catch her and she valiantly outran him.

Seriously, where did her stamina_ come_ from!? She was 17 and ran faster than an Olympic marathon champion!

And he had longer legs!

At one point, Kuon had reared his golden head at her challenge to his ability to catch her, it became a game of Fate. If he caught her, if Fate allowed him this moment, this chance, to break down the walls and take his Princess into his arms, he would tell her. And if he didn't….

If he failed, Kuon knew that was it. He would have given up – albeit with a great struggle and a fight to beat himself into submission – and let her go, let her slip through his fingers and she would never have to know he was Hizuri, Kuon, a lonely, depressed little boy whose coveted role was playing Fairy Prince. She'd never know and he could have moved on with his miserable life – because without her, there was no happiness he could ever attain that would equal to Mogami, Kyoko. Not even surpassing his Father mattered more. If she asked him to stay, he would. All she had to do was tell him what she wanted and every single molecule of the man he was would get it for her. He was Corn, her Fairy Prince, and he knew too many people had given up on her, given up on her fragile little heart, and he vowed that when she slipped into that elevator – safe, for now – he wasn't about to be another disappointment in her life.

It didn't take long before his old instincts kicked in. One glance at the floor that elevator was carrying her to and he was gone, rushing to the stairwell with a determination that blinded him. And for a moment, he wasn't Tsuruga, Ren or Hizuri, Kuon or even Corn. At that moment, leaping off the sides of the flights of stairs like he_ could_ fly, he was nothing but a man. It took willpower not to chortle at the faces on the girls' faces when he landed, unceremoniously, at their feet like a kneeling Prince – and if Kyoko had seen him then he knew she would have_ known_ he was Corn.

He threw – because he was still Tsuruga, Ren….Or, well, he was supposed to be – a quick but heartfelt mumbled apology and, as quick as he had landed, threw himself without abandon off the next flight of stairs. Adrenaline pumped hot and fast in his veins and his heart, already accelerated from anxious nerves of the confession he still had no idea how to begin, thundered behind his ribs, pounding in his ears like the drums signalling a war was about to begin – even his body understood the tension in his tight, coiled muscles. It was going to take one hell of a battle shot to cripple his Princess' defences – and to disarm her powerfully broken heart – but Kuon was going to give it his all –_ "….go in guns blazing…."_ he remembered – even if it meant giving up Tsuruga, Ren, even if it meant giving up on reaching his Father's level and even if he had to shred his own damn wings, and even if she denied him as she usually did – he wasn't letting either of them be cowards tonight.

Not when what hung in the balance was her heart.

When he threw open that stairwell doorway to the parking garage, he had never really felt more like a Prince. With his heart lodged somewhere between his throat and his chest, he darted for the elevator, slamming his palms on the doors and shoving them open before they could lock her away from him. Nothing was going to get in his way, no matter what walls he had to climb or what beliefs he had to tear down. Tonight, right now, she was going to _see_ him.

Guilt prickled his heart when she tossed herself backwards, effectively cornering herself, but he ignored it and pushed forward, his palms hitting the wall of the elevator so he hovered over her. Breathless and desperate, Kuon felt the thrill of excitement thrumming underneath his skin. He'd caught her, he'd won whatever challenge Fate had thrown at him, and for better or for worse, they were trapped in an enclosed elevator with him encasing her against the wall like some caveman – but he knew the moment he moved, she would bolt, and there was no way he was letting her run again. He could already hear Yashiro's fangirl squealing and the man wasn't even anywhere near them – though he would later find this hidden footage when he stumbled into his Boss, his manager, and his Father all watching with tearful exclamations.

She was pressed into the elevator but he didn't move forward, giving her the comfort of space but the clear threat that he was _there_.

The familiar blue and white tote bag she carried everywhere was shielding her body from his, a very firm message that she knew he was trying to intimidate her. Using her bag as a block – and to probably shove into his face as a distraction if necessary – was something he should have expected when he stalked towards her but, in his defence, he hadn't really been thinking about anything but catching her.

There was no hesitation when she looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed over irritated golden orbs and her pupils tiny dots lost in the dark gold of her iris. This he knew, this emotion he understood: she was angry and when Kyoko was angry, she erupted.

Mogami Volcano eruption in 3….2….1….

"Wh….Why did you chase me all the way here!?"

Mogami, Kyoko did _not_ shout, not at him – she could hold screaming matches with a certain blonde musician whose neck Kuon envisioned snapping in two – but her words echoed in the empty elevator, the first shots fired in a battle Kuon didn't intend to lose.

At the fierce fury in her voice, he felt his own anger burning into his throat. How dare she run like he was going to murder her only to question _why_! "Because I need to talk with you, I told you!"

Which if she hadn't been shouting nonsense at him and fleeing like her life depended on it, she would have known. But this was Kyoko and Kyoko was unpredictable. They hadn't parted on the best of terms – Lory's words still rung in his ears _"….just like him…."_ and he would be damned if he let her think he was _anything _like Fuwa – but he hadn't suspected she would flee like that! All he wanted to do was talk and now, here they were, shouting at each other in a stationary elevator because his Princess was just as amazing as she was _dense_.

How she had survived for so long worried him.

"Yeah, and I said, why does it have to be with me!?" Was she listening to him? Or being purposefully obtuse?

"Because it won't make sense if it's not with you!" He wasn't confessing his love for her to a potted plant – and even if he did he was sure that plant would turn out to be the Boss in disguise anyway! – because it involved her and if the irrational, fiery pixie would calm down and shut up, he would be able to _tell_ her that!

The battle, however, had only just begun.

No one could ever say Kyoko couldn't hold her own. She was damn good at it and he found it highly attractive. Except for moments like this, where she was hindering him rather than amusing him because _why_ was it so hard to confess his feelings for her!?

He almost – he was thanking his Father for being an actor and helping him control his facial muscles because it took every ounce of that not to laugh in her angrily beautiful face – lost focus when her entire face – not her lips, not her eyes, no, her entire facial muscles including her jaw – _twitched_. Oh, God, he fucking broke her. The spew of angry words doused him in an icy torrent as if she'd dumped a bucket of ice water right over top of him.

"I'm not going to be your blind alley strat into this!" Really, where did she _get_ this stuff from? "Besides, I neither have the ability or influence to do anything!"

Her next shout pricked at that tiny piece of him he had buried, that small part of him that _hated_ Tsuruga, Ren's mask. "What is the matter with you!?" You. You're the cause. You're always the damn reason something is wrong with me. "You're Tsuruga, Ren!" Well at least she knew his name. "You don't have to go through all these tedious formalities to get what you want!" Chasing down this girl and trying to confess to her was nowhere _near _tedious. It was exhausting. "Can't you just go in, guns blazing, and talk to the person directly!?"

And that is when his proud mask, his confidence as Tsuruga, Ren, snapped.

"YES! And that's what I'm doing now! I'm going in guns blazing, and talking to the person directly!" It was the closest he had ever come to telling her the truth but Tsuruga, Ren was lying shattered at his feet.

Hizuri, Kuon was the one who stared down at the wide-eyed girl he loved, his loud shout ringing in the sudden silence. It took a lot not to wince at the way that had come out. Where was his confidence and his cool, mature persona? Oh, yeah, obliterated by a screaming match with a teenage girl locked in an elevator.

Great.

Her wide-eyes both comforted and soothed his fears, and stoked them. Mouth slightly parted in what was probably a lost rebuttal, she looked….Confused. Her confusion eased his anger and he took a very necessary calming breath into his aching lungs. A pin could have dropped to the cushioned floor and it would have sounded like a nuclear bomb. They were staring at each other, locked gazes not once wavering.

And then, in a quiet, timid, mousy whisper, "Uh….Sorry if this is rude, but," His lips twitched but he kept it to a minimum. "What exactly are you talking about….?"

He couldn't really have been any clearer but he pushed that aside in favor of questions of his own, now that his anger had dampened. "That's what I'd like to ask you. You mentioned Yashiro-san and blind-alley strats earlier." He mumbled the next bit unintentionally, "I'm so confused."

And he was, he really was, because in no way could anyone truly understand Mogami, Kyoko but this had left him reeling in ways he hadn't thought were possible.

She stared at him as if she didn't comprehend what he was saying – which, in hindsight, he was positive she really didn't – and almost as if he was speaking Russian – which he could do if she wanted him to explain it to her in Russian but he was almost sure she wouldn't be able to handle that on top of his confession.

Blinking quickly, her eyes narrowed on him, wary and confused and when she spoke, her words were slow and measured like she was talking to a child who didn't know they had done wrong. "Is this not…."

She paused, blinking up at him, and he pressed his palms harder into the elevator wall to keep from reaching out to hold her. "….About you confessing your feelings to the person you like….?"

He didn't even hesitate. "It is, though?"

The longer she stared at him, the more he stared back until it almost felt like they were grappling against each other. One of them had to budge and it wasn't going to be him. Something passed through her golden eyes and he instinctively tensed, prepared from the multiple stabs he'd received from this girl before.

He wasn't disappointed by this one either. "Wait….Are you drunk?"

Why….Why did she assume he was _drunk_? Okay, confessing to her was probably melting her brain but did she seriously consider him being drunk as the alternative? When this was all over, if she didn't run for the hills screaming, he was going to have to talk to the love of his life about her, erm, obliviousness.

It was going to kill him one day.

"Huh? Why do you suddenly think I'm drunk?" He was almost curious to see what her reasoning would be if the tension in the elevator wasn't threatening to drown him.

"Uh, because, I'm not," Something flickered in Kyoko's deep gaze, hidden behind the bright gold of her eyes, but he lost it before he could follow it. "Morizumi-san, you know?"

That name….

Meant absolutely nothing to him and he was even more confused now than before.

"Who? Morizumi?"

Her expression twisted into a sort of shock, like she was offended he didn't know what she was talking about – but, honestly, he never really knew what she was talking about anyway, he just thought she was cute when she rambled nonsense. "How terrible!"

"You're going to play dumb!?" Well, no, he wasn't _playing_ dumb….He truly had no idea what was going on. "How can you lead a girl on like that!? I believed in you, that you weren't a playboy surfer or a hungry vampire! I've totally been scammed!"

"Surfer? Vampire? Scammed?" His head tilted slightly to the side in confusion, thin eyebrows tilting upward. Exasperated, and not the least bit perplexed with the turn of this conversation, Kuon looked at the indignation plastered across her face and tried to slowly wrap his muddled brain around what was going on. "No, uh…." Lifting a large hand from the wall, he scratched loosely at his tousled dark hair. "I seriously don't know who that is. Can you give me a hint?"

"You acted together! Don't you remember!?" She snapped. "In _Purple Down_! Producer Morizumi, Reiji's daughter!"

The corners of his eyebrows furrowed at the bridge of his nose, his nose wrinkling but he was still baffled and not understanding what she was talking about. He tried to place names and faces but all he came up with was a blank. Was this a stalling game?

He wouldn't put it past her.

And then it hit him.

Morizumi, Kimiko.

"Ohh…." A miserable groan left him at the memory his brain had unearthed. "That girl, huh….."

"You're being very rude right now, you know? You even gave her a ring, how can you talk about her like that!?"

Something…..Wasn't right. But he couldn't put his tired mind on top of it. The only thing he _did_ know was that Morizumi, Kimiko was trouble.

And a liar.

There was only one woman he wanted to give a ring to and it belonged on a very specific finger in a time not trapped in an elevator. He kept his gaze steady on her, working overtime to sort out what his gut was telling him.

He had, apparently, been silent too long.

"….What?"

"A ring…." Dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Did_ she_ say that?"

"Yes, that's right!" Strands of her orange hair hung over the bridge of her nose, sweeping across the left side of her heart-shaped face but he could clearly see the play of emotion even though he couldn't quite name which emotions they were.

He wanted Morizumi, Kimiko out of the conversation – it was rude to confess to the girl he loved when another girl was being spoken of – but it was clear by Kyoko's expression and reactions this needed to be discussed. Considering he pinned her to the wall, it was the least he could do. And there was no way he was going to let Morizumi come between him and Kyoko.

"Did she really say that? That she got it from me, specifically?"

Gold orbs glanced up at him from dark lashes and furrowed eyebrows, determined and set. "Yes, she did, I'm sure –"

He interrupted her declaration without a hint of regret and straightened, leaning his weight on the palm still pressed into the elevator wall. "Or did she say something different that made you _think_ she said that?"

He already knew the answer. Kyoko paused, gathering her thoughts together, and then she related to him what had been said, using gestures of what he assumed Morizumi had done when retelling the fabricated story. He wanted to laugh, he really did, but it would have hurt to laugh at the fact the girl he was in love with thought he was in love with someone else, with Morizumi, Kimiko of all people. Surely, she thought better of him than that.

Standing straight, his dark eyes watched her intently for a moment before he spoke. "…..I thought so. Man, she's good. She really knows how to talk and create misunderstandings."

If the blank look on Kyoko's face was anything to go by, she didn't understand what was going on any more than he did – but he had a better idea of what Morizumi was like. As soon as Kyoko explained what she had said, his head dropped and his shoulders slumped, a pent up sigh of tension and nerves expelled from his chest. As he explained the White Day fiasco, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. That feeling in his gut was back. This situation…..There was something tickling in the back of his mind, a thought that was trying to form, but the more he tried to focus on it the less he understood it.

He straightened a minute later, one hand on his hip as he tried to explain the situation and alleviate Morizumi's lies. "She was still a child, so I didn't think I had to be that wary."

It was impossible not to notice when Kyoko's lips pursed at the word 'child' but he simply carried on, keeping his gaze on her face. "But I knew she had feelings for me, so I wanted to tread carefully."

When she asked about the pinky ring, that tickle became a harsh poke, nudging an unclear thought into his mind. Crossing his arms, he leaned a broad shoulder into the wall, nodding at her exclamation about the ring. Closing his tired eyes, he loosened his hold on his arms but kept them crossed – it was dangerous in such a small space with Mogami, Kyoko to let his arms down. Her ducked head and hunched upper back signified her disbelief, her expression darkened by the audacity of the truth. If he had known, he would have never –

It burst through his mind, the tickle, like warm sunlight, and he froze, eyes snapping open and arms dropping to his sides.

They were no longer looking at each other but everything felt exposed.

Slowly, he looked down at her in time to catch it. This time, he saw the emotion as it raced through her enlarged golden eyes. He caught it, understood it, and felt his own eyes widen. That memory of a dandelion ring echoed in his mind.

Rings….

Morizumi, Kimiko…..

A despicable guy, just like _him…_..

Setsu's slender hand tapping his chest, marking him, claiming him…..

He blinked, holding his eyes closed, and when he opened them, his fingers twitched. His gut exploded into a burst of heavy warmth, his heart practically tore through his chest, and his mouth went dry. All he'd needed was proof, proof that she could feel even just a tiny bit of affection for him. That was all he needed for hope to blossom. Looking at the deep blush that stretched from one side of her face to the other, across her small nose, and up her ears, to the shiny gold orbs glazed with unshed tears and bright with what he knew was understanding, and looking at the twist of her lips, Kuon had his answer.

Jealous. She was jealous. Kyoko was jealous. Over him.

And there was only one reason for jealousy.

Whatever small part of Tsuruga, Ren that had remained piped up an unheard of protest that he had to say _something_, he had to tell her, confess his feelings, clear this all up so there could be no doubt –

It's just too bad Kuon didn't give a damn.

What he should have done was tell her he loved her.

What he did was reach out, his hands not bound from touching her, holding her, and gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms – he would never admit to delighting in the startled squeak she emitted nor would he ever admit it fuelled his inner desire – pulling her upward. He knew she was small and short and that by pulling her up like that, she was straining on the tops of her toes, but he leaned down to meet her half-way, tilting his head to the side. Their eyes met, gold and concealed green, truth and understanding flickering between them.

And, years later, he wouldn't be able to tell you who actually started it.

One moment they were staring intently into each other's eyes, dazed, and then his fingers tightened on her upper arms and they were kissing. Heat flooded him, a liquid fire burning through his blood and pumping in his veins, spreading from the warmth of her lips. Her hands, those thin digits, wove into his swept back hair, clinging to him. Eyes closed, all he could feel was the heat of her lips and the burn of her fingers in his hair. Sunlight and the untainted, light purity that was _Kyoko_ invaded his senses and his hands dropped from her arms – he followed her lips down, no way in hell was he letting go and if her tightened grip on his hair was any indication, neither was she – to pull her closer. Slowly, drowning in her sweet burn but not wanting to push her, one large hand settled at her lower back, holding her close but keeping her body from touching his – there was only so much he could take.

The other cupped her jaw, his fingers curling to the back of her slender neck where he teased the stray strands of her soft hair. Her small face fit in his palm and his heart ached for her. Soft, warm lips pressed up into his and, slowly, his tongue licked at her bottom lip, moist and soft. He felt her tense and the hand at her lower back rubbed up and down her back, his fingers at the back of her neck curling against her skin. Waiting her out, letting her set the pace, he kissed her tenderly, caressing her lips with his and stoking the inferno burning him alive. He was going to hell, he was going to burn, and he _loved_ it.

If kissing Kyoko meant he was going to burst into flames, he would die a really happy man.

Then, as in all things, Kyoko found her determination.

And spread her lips, not giving him any time to be slow and sweet, and thrust her tiny little tongue straight into his mouth. It was clumsy and nervous but it was the best kiss he had ever received in his life. His heart pounded anxiously and he wondered, dazed, if he was going to have a heart attack. Sweet, innocent Kyoko was kissing him. _Kissing_, kissing him.

And oh God if they didn't stop now he feared for her safety – and his sanity.

The hand on her back ran over the gentle curve of her spine down to her lower back, above her butt, before both of his hands landed on her hips. He pulled and felt his lips twitch upwards when she pressed closer, her tongue getting more fluid as she swept the fire burning in his blood into molten lava. Really, he couldn't have helped it when he moaned.

But it was enough to jar his naive little Princess into jerking back with a garbled squawk that resembled, oddly, a chicken.

His fingers dug into her hips, gentle but firm, and he grit his jaw at the face that greeted him. Cheeks darkened and flushed, her gold orbs were hooded by her dark lashes and roiling with a deep, sweet amber. Her moist, kiss-swollen lips, parted as she took in quick breaths, tempted him but the dawning light in her gold eyes eased the hot desire rushing through him. He'd kissed her, she hadn't rejected him, but they still had so much to talk about.

And a lot more kisses to make up on.

Sighing deeply, he dropped his forehead to hers, closing his weary eyes and fighting off _himself_. Timid fingers wove through his hair and a soft smile pulled at his lips, his chest overflowing with warmth.

For a long moment, they just stood there with his hands on her hips and his forehead touching hers, her fingers combing through his hair and the heat of their breath mingling in the space between their bodies.

There was so much to say, so much to discuss, and so many questions hovering in the space between them. But this moment was a breakthrough.

And for once, he let himself hope.


End file.
